Lady Au Pair II
by beb
Summary: A new Lady Au Pair has appeared, robbing a bank with the help of the Murderous Moppets. But it's not Dr. Girlfriend who is busy as Dr. Mrs. The Monarch at the Cocoon. Who is this felonious babysitter? Could it be 21's former girlfriend, Kim? How can she escape the Guild's Eraser squad? A sequel to "A Day in the Life of a Reformed Henchman."
1. Chapter 1

_TO: Col. Gathers, Commander, OSI_

_STATUS: Top Secret ++ (Your Eyes Only)_

_SUBJECT: Suspected Super-Villain Activity in or near Shopton, Az._

_FROM: Codename: "Shoreleave"_

_DATE: June 12, 20xx_

_Interviews with witnesses indicate a woman of unknown age, of medium to tall statue and thin to average size. Several male witnesses mentioned that she appeared to be big breasted..._

"Hot Damn!" muttered the Colonel, "I miss my tits!" He read on.

_... Suspect was dressed in a long, grey coat or maybe a cape with a hood or maybe a smaller cape across the back. One interviewee identified the outfit as "the kind that Supernanny" woman wears"..._

9:23 am. Downtown Shopton was bustling in a quiet, subdued fashion. Businesses were opening. People arriving for their morning shopping. Women pushing baby carriages along the streets. Old men sitting in the park watching the traffic go by, ogling the young ladies (all young enough to be their granddaughters). No one ever noticed where she came from. She was just one in the line of women taking their children out for a stroll. She was dressed in grey, a long coat or something, coming down to mid-calf, on her head was a large hat with a heavy veil. You don't see women wearing veils much anymore. That topic occupied the old men for a few minutes.

She was pushing a twin baby carriage. Sitting it in were two large, chubby boys about three years of age. They were dressed in short pants and velvet jacket of a kind known as Little Lord Fauntleroy. They had on round hats with wide brims and a bit of ribbon hanging down the back. One was licking a large lollipop.

The nanny stopped about mid-block and her two charges hopped out of the carriage and started running around. They would sometimes dart towards the street and she'd call them back. "Kevin! Tim-Tom! Stay away from the street," she'd call but the two boys wouldn't listen to her.

Then it happened. It seemed like an accident, but of course, it wasn't.

The two chubby boys had wandered down the block in their play when they suddenly darted into the street. Cars screeched to a halt, horns were blown, there was the crash of metal as a large armored truck run into one of the stopped cars. And the Nanny reached into her carried and brought out what looked like a baby bazooka, maybe four feet long, folded in half, and two inches in diameter. She unfolded it with a snap, casually aimed towards the armored car and set off a round. The rocket-propelled grenade hit the truck's front windshield, plowed through as the rocket continued thrusting before exploding seconds later. Shards of inch-thick pexiglass and driver showered the nearby stores. The old men in the park were knocked from their benches and missed much of what happened next.

Pushing the carriage before her, the nanny approached the rear of the armored bank van and loaded another round into her RPG gun. The blast tore the doors off their re-enforced hinges. As a pair of guards stumbled from out of the back they were met by knives wielded by the two infants. Even before the guards had dropped to the ground the pair were inside the van handing out cash bags to their nanny, who stacked them in the carriage. There was a pretty high pile of loot by the time they left. The carriage, it was noted, did not sag under all the weight.

From the diaper bag hanging from the carriage's handle the nanny pulled four gas grenades, pulled their pins and rolled them in four different directions. She also pulled out gas masks for her and her two accomplices. They barely got them on before the grenades exploded in a cloud of smoke and tear gas.

By the time the gas had cleared away so had the robbers. Four men had died and over a million dollars taken.

Col. Gathers threw down the report with disgust. "Samson! Thoughts?" he barked.

"Well, obviously this is Lady Au Pair, AKA Queen Etheria, AKA Dr. Girlfriend, AKA Dr. Mrs The Monarch, AKA Sheila, or, since we have pretty good intelligence where Dr. Mrs. The Monarch was at the time, someone impersonating her."

"My left nut could have told me that, and I'm not even sure my left nut is mine! What in blue blazes is going on here? Shoreleave, surely you have some thoughts on the matter?"

The bare-chested man in the short-shorts thought for a moment. "This is a job for SPHINX! (Sphinx)."

"Great googly-moogly, man, we disbanded Sphinx. You should know, you were there!" Col Gathers yanked the butt of a cigarette out of his ivory holder and crammed a fresh stick in.

"I did query the Guild of Calamitous Intent," Shoreleave said. "They replied that Lady Au Pair was an inactivated account, so whoever was using that persona is _person non grata." _

"Camel Crap!" Col. Gathers applied a match to the cigarette and took a tentative puff. "Those 'children' with her clearly were the original 'Murderous Moppets,' Kevin and Tim-Tom. And those two were last reported working for The Monarch. Samson, you're familiar with the Monarch. Check it out!"

"Uh, sir, with all due respect, but we've been getting reports of a flying saucer buzzing the Eiffel Tower. Sounds like it's the Secret Martians acting up. I thought I should look into that."

"Shoreleave?"

"Gay Pride celebration."

"Damn you and your multicultural diversity!" Gather's sputtered. "Is there no one in this One Man Army I can rely on?"

"We do have a man on the scene," Samson said. "Knows the Monarch, too."

"Hot Potato! Who is this man?"

[]

"You have a lot of nerve coming here," Dr. Mrs. The Monarch said from the right-hand pair of matching thrones. "If my husband knew you were here, he would..."

"He knows I'm here. I'm here under joint OSI-Guild clearance. Your _husband_," Gary emphasis the last word, "took off in the Monarchmobile on unnamed, last minute business because he knows if I saw him I'd kick his butt. Guild truce or not."

Gary was dressed in a Venture Industries grey jumpsuit, with an OSI armband to show that he was on official business.

"My husband is not a coward!" Dr. Mrs. The Monarch defended, then added lamely, "but he is a busy man. What do you want?"

She seemed to arch her back thrusting her breasts forward. At least it seemed so to Gary's imagination. The flesh colored tights and tight-fitting leotard emphasized her sexual allure, as did the plunging neckline that ended somewhere around her belly button. It reminded Gary all too much of the crush he had had on her until she broke his heart.

"Where are your friends, the murderous moppets?" he asked.

"You mean the Pupae? They're around here somewhere."

"Can you find them. It's them I want to talk to."

She turned to a near-by henchman seated at the communications desk. "Call 'em."

The henchman paled under his helmet. "Ma'am, the pupae are no longer here."

"What do you mean," Dr. Mrs. The Monarch's voice took a deep and steely tone. "Where are they?"

"I don't know. The - uh - Monarch fired them last week."

"Without telling me?" she stood up and paced around the small platform the thrones were mounted on. "When did this happen? What do you know about it?"

"N-nothing, ma'am. I heard it through the grapevine and later looked it up on the roster. Their names had been deleted."

"Let me see that." The willowy woman stalked down the steps, her wings dragging on the floor behind her. She all but pushed the henchman out of his seat as she took control of the keyboard and rapidly typed in a query. "Gone!" she said in a hollow tone. "Without even telling me."

She turned on Gary, "You!," she pointed an accusing finger at him. "You did this! What have you done to my boys?"

Gary folded his arms and glowered back at her, "Nothing. I'm here to find out what they've been up to."

"Don't play innocent with me, 21! I know you had something to do with this. OSI truce my ass! Henchmen! Seize the traitor!"

Several henchman leaped up from their consoles and advanced on Gary, who had flicked out the twin knifes he kept strapped to his arms. "Who dies first?" he asked in a quiet but deadly voice, stealing the line from a Conan story. The henchmen hesitated. Although sworn to loyalty to Dr. Mrs. The Monarch, they also remembered Gary from when he was the head henchman. None of them was quite prepared to be the first to die.

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch stomped back to her throne and sat down. Looking at Gary for a moment, she relented and waved the henchmen back to their work. "So what are my little boys accused of doing?" she sighed.

"Robbed an armored bank truck, killed four civilians and made off with a million dollars. But the kicker is, they were working for Lady Au Pair..."

"Never! I have been here all the time. Ask any of the henchmen!"

Gary laughed.

"Robbing bank's pretty low for you. Is the Monarch's trust fund running dry?"

"A million dollars is chump change for The Monarch!" but she seemed nervous and uneasy. "Get the Monarch on the line," she told the communications operative. "And don't let him put you off!"

The communications officer spoke quietly into his headset, then started arguing, finishing rather audibly, "it's the missus and she's not happy."

A moment later a large overhead projector descended into the room and The Monarch's face appeared in close-up.

"Poopkins, sweetie, what's the matter?" Then he saw Gary standing in the middle of the control room. "What's he doing here! You!" He pointed an enormous finger at the web cam, "Stay away from my wife!"

"Official Guild business. He wants to know why you fired Kevin and Tim-Tom." There was no warmth in her deep voice.

"The Pupae? They - uh - asked to be let go. Were getting bored around here, don't you know. Wanted to strike out of their own."

"Funny, they never told me about any of this?" Dr. Mrs. The Monarch replied.

"Heh, heh - really?"

"What did you do to my babies?" She crossed her arms and drummed her fingers along one arm of her throne. "Well? I'm waiting."

"I - uh - sold them."

"You sold my moppets? Without asking me?"

"Well, you know I've never liked them and this very generous offer came along and well - heh heh - it was like killing two birds with one stone."

"Who did you sell them to?" Gary asked.

"Are you still here?"

"Guild Business. Someone's impersonating Lady Au Pair. She must have bought the moppets from you. Who was she?

"How do I know. It was done over Craigslist. Someone calling herself 'BorntoArch1992.' It was a little cash up-front and a ten percent commission on her first year's operations."

"Nice. You just made a hundred thousand dollars and have the OSI on your case." Gary informed him.

"You know where the OSI can stick it!"

"Monarch," Doctor the Missus said, "you're going to have to come home sometime and when you do we're going to have a long talk about selling my stuff without my permission."

"Oh, Crap," he muttered and cut the connection.

"Satisfied?" Dr. Mrs. The Monarch demanded. "Then get the hell off my Cocoon." She turned to one of the henchmen. "Get me the newspapers. What have my moppets got up to now." She slumped angrily in her throne. Gary found his own way out.

[]

Gary stopped in Shopton on the way back to the Venture Compound to look over the scene of the crime. There wasn't much to see a week later. All the damaged cars had been removed, the police tape taken down, the craters left in the road by the gas grenades filled in. Except for for some marks and the patches of new asphalt you couldn't tell anything had happened there. But Gary wasn't looking for gory details. He was looking at the site strategically. It was near the bank where the truck had been loaded for transport to a Federal Depository, a one-way street funneled traffic on to this one particular street. Busy stores with street side parking restricted this particular area to two narrow lanes of traffic. Add the Murderous Moppets to create a distraction, it was the perfect place to bottle up the bank truck. Lady Au Pair knew how to pick 'em.

But how did she get away?

Gary walked up the block until he was even with where she had stood robbing the truck. Even with a baby carriage built to carry the the added weight of the bank loot it would have heavy to push. So she would want a get away car near-by, and probably one she could push the carriage right into. He considered whether she had parked on the one-way street. She could pile in and pull out into the intersection above the accident and make her getaway there. But it would require crossing the street, which would be full of people and car. She could not control how far up the road the traffic jam would run. Gary dismissed the idea. It wasn't a good plan. Not in line with the rest of the operation.

Had she parked a car somewhere below the traffic jam? He wasn't sure whether the on-coming lane of traffic had been blocked by the accident. But he could see that if she had parked across the road crossing it would also be a problem. Frankly she couldn't risk parking too near there she planned to stage the accident for fear of her car getting blocked in by the traffic. So she had to have crossed over to a different street. That meant crossing the square here.

Gary walked past the old men who had returned to their benches, none the worse for their exciting day a week before. This side of the square had few open shops and a lot less motor traffic and many open parking spaces. And a concrete walkway lead from one side the other right here.

One of the stores on this side of the square was a barber shop. He walked in and said 'hello' to the old Black man who was seated in one of the hydraulic chairs.

"What can I do for you," the old man asked, "shave, hair cut?"

Gary felt the back of his head. "Yeah. Kill the mullet look."

"Sure thing, Mister." He dusted off the chair he had been sitting in and waved for Gary to take a seat. "That's a nice crop of hair you've got. Shame to take it off. You might want it back when you're my age."

"I'll try the Kojack look first." Gary listened to the barber work for a bit with his clippers. "Did you happen to notice any of that excite that happened out there last week. You must have had a pretty good view."

"You mean that armored truck robbery?" The old man asked nervously.

"Yeah, that's the one." There was a mirror on both sides of the walls of the shop. In it Gary could see the old man looking fitfully around inside and outside his shop.

"I didn't see anything."

"Nothing? With that big window and everything? Why, you must have had a front row seat."

No, sir. I didn't see anything that concerned me."

"You didn't see a lady in a grey coat pushing a large baby carriage or a couple of midgets tagging along with her?"

"I just cut hair. I don't pay attention to anything else. Well, I'm done. No charge today. I got to close up the shop now."

"Are you OK?" Gary asked. "You seem kind of upset."

The old man whipped away the drape from Gary and pointed range up a "No Sale" receipt on his antique cash register. Without bothering to sweep up he started to turn off his lights. "I'm closing up," he said, "I'll have to ask you to leave."

Gary too out his wallet and extracted a business card. "If you're in trouble call this number. Someone will be around to help, no questions asked." he offered the card to the old man, who refused to take it. Gary left it on the barber chair.

He went down the block to a vacant shop near the end. He ducked into its doorway and kept an eye on the shop he had just left. A moment later the old man came out of the shop and turned the other way, walking briskly. Something stopped him at an alley way. The old man stopped, then backed up a couple steps. He listened to something someone in the alley said and shook his head. Then he began arguing with the unseen person. When he turned to run, Gary sprinted towards him. But he was too late. A knife flashed through the air, thudding into the back of the old man. With a gasp of pain he collapsed onto the sidewalk. Gary leaped over him and into the alley.

Something scuttled behind some trash cans at the far end of the alley. Gary pounded down the broken concrete, past the cans and around the corner. He almost ran into a woman dressed in a long coat with sunglasses. She had blonde hair and candy-red lipstick. Gary pushed her out of his way - as gently as possible - while continuing down the street. But in the time it had taken to dodge around the woman the midget had disappeared.

He spent several minutes looking through various doorways and around and under cars before giving up on finding the little man. He went back up the alley to see if there was anything he could do for the old man. There was a crowd gathered around him and the sound of an ambulance in the distance. "Is he...?" he asked someone on the fringe.

"Dead. Someone stuck a knife in his back. Poor, ol' Sammy. Never had an enemy in the work. Why would someone do a thing like that to him?"

Gary agreed while scanning the street for suspicious or familiar faces. He noticed the woman he had almost run into earlier had left the group and walked down to a non-descript black car. He hurried after her, curious what she was doing here, but she quickly had her car started and pulled into traffic even as he was calling to her.

[]

He got out of the shower and pulled on the dark jeans and black tee-shirt that had become his defacto pajamas. Since he never knew when his night was going to be interrupted by an attack on the Ventures tended to sleep fully dressed, and if he was going to get up in the middle of the night he didn't want to have to change into dark attire. Gary padded into the only other room of the guard shack, made sure his boots were laid out where he could find them, then dropped into the chair in front of the computer. He picked up a clipboard and ran a finger down the list of things to do. He marked off a couple completed projected, and starred a couple things that needed doing the next day. He tossed the clipboard to one side and unlocked the computer. A quick check of the mail showed than no one had written to him. He switched to the writing program and began his report:

_TO: Combined Guild/OSI Emergency Task Force_

_STATUS: Top-Secret / Your eyes Only ++_

_SUBJECT: Interview with Lady Au Pair (AKA Dr. Mrs. The Monarch)_

_FROM: Codename "Viceroy"_

_DATE: June 20, 20xx_

_Suspect "Monarch" left the Cocoon before the arrival of the joint Guild/OSI delegation and remained inaccessible for interrogation. _

_Suspect "Lady Au Pair" / Dr. Mrs The Monarch appeared unaware of the bank robbery of the 8th, or that the operation had been lead by someone dressed as herself. Suspect seemed surprised to learned that the Murderous Moppets (AKA the Pupea) were not in the Cocoon and had not been for some time. _

_Suspect then contacted her husband regarding the missing Moppets. He claimed to not know who he sold them to aside from a handle, "Borntoarch1992," over Craigslist. _

_Interview was terminated without further information._

_ANALYSIS: While this could be a complicated piece of theater to confuse the joint Guild/OSI delegation this is not likely. Dr. Mrs. The Monarch has a history of being a straight shooter, unlike her husband. She seemed genuinely surprised to learn that her associates from her days as Lady Au Pair were not in the Cocoon and that her husband had sold them. It is not clear whether the Moppets were sold as slaves or whether a personal service contract was sold, obligating them to work for this new Lady Au Pair. _

_CONCLUSION: It remains imperative to identify who this new Lady Au Pair is and determine her intentions regarding both OSI and Guild of Calamitous Intent._

He addressed copies to both Col. Gather and to the Council of the Guild and emailed them off. That done he considered his next email. That would be a harder one to write.

After a long time thinking he just wrote "May have spotted Kim." and sent it. Moments later his phone rang.

"What do you mean," Triana demanded as soon as Gary answered, "you saw Kim?"

"We had unauthorized super-villain activity going on in town. I'm thinking it's Kim"

"You mean that bank robbery a weeks ago."

"Yeah. Someone impersonated Lady Au Pair to pull of the robbery and today it looks like they killed a witness to the robbery, a harmless old barber."

"Who or what's a Lady Au Pair?" Triana asked.

Gary explained about the babysitter themed villain that Dr. Girlfriend had concocted at one time. Adding that even thought she was not using that persona anymore it was still considered to be one of her trademarks, a _Nom de Crime _as it were. "Since Super-villains are nothing without their professional name the Guild of Calamitous Intent takes cases of Identity Theft like this pretty seriously."

"You make all this henching and arching stuff sound more like some kind of a business than megalomania. But tell me about Kim!"

Gary sighed. "I never gave it any thought until I left the Monarch and discovered there were all sorts of rules about what one can and can't do as a resigning henchman or as an Arch. Then there was the retirement fund, health benefits, liability waivers. I must have signed all that shit when I hired on with Monarch but never gave it any thought at the time. It really is like a business in some ways.

"Anyway I was looking over the scene of the robbery and was struck that part of this looked like a military operation. It was well timed. The location was perfect for a hold-up, and they used some high-energy ordinance - a rocket launched grenade or two. The Guild discourages the use of H.E. weapons and the needless killing of civilians since that tends to piss off the locals. It all points to a Blackhearts operation, or to someone trained by the Blackhearts."

"That's the all-woman assassination bureau Kim joined to get training as a super-villain?" Triana asked.

"Yeah. It looked like a Blackhearts ops but they don't do personas like Lady Au Pair, and they wouldn't work with a couple guys like the Murderous Moppets. So a rogue Blackheart with aspirations of being a Guild super-villain. That sounds like Kim."

"But killing those four guards?" Triana hesitated. "That doesn't sound like the Kim I know."

"Yeah."

They both were silent for a while, deep in thought. "But actually trying to kill Hank Venture" wasn't like the Kim you knew, either," Gary suggested. "Once you've determined to kill one person killing other people who get in your way seems a lot easier."

"So what's going to happen to her?"

"She crossed the line when she killed those guards. I don't know that there's any way out for her now. The state and local police will be after her. Since there's a presumption that she's crossed state-lines to avoid prosecution, that brings in the F.B.I. and they will in turn call in the OSI since we're charged with super-villain enforcement. The bigger issue is going to be the Guild."

"For Identity Theft?" Triana asked incredulously.

"The Guild take Identity Theft very seriously. Committing a crime while dressed as a registered Guild member is an unforgivable offense. They'll send out a hit squad to take her down just as soon as they locate her. I'm surprised the Moppets didn't warn her about that. They had to have known."

"We've got to warn her!"

"I can place a personal ad in Villanous Times but I don't know if she'll read it - in time."

"Do it!"

"You know, a lot of this is up to Dr. Mrs. The Monarch."

"Why?"

" 'cause when a Guild Eraser team goes out they take out everybody. So they'll do the Moppets as well as Kim. But Dr. Girlfriend seems awful loyal to her former henchmen. If she wants to save her boys she'll almost have to save Kim as well."

"Do you think she will?"

"That I do not know."


	2. Chapter 2

She wasn't surprised to wake up and find that her husband wasn't sleeping next to her, that his side of the bed remained undisturbed. It just meant that he hadn't returned yet to face the music. She wasn't surprised but she wasn't happy either.

She got up, made the bed (she could have ordered an minion to clean up the bedroom but didn't like the idea of a minion poking around in her stuff), showered and got dressed. She spent some time in front of the mirror making sure that her Queen Monarch costume fit just perfectly and was taped down properly to prevent "nipslips."

Satisfied with her appearance she left the royal suite and walked down the short length to the Throne Control, control room for the Monarch's Cocoon. There was a collective gasp as she entered the Throne Room and strolled over to her seat, to the right of the Monarch's command chair. Everyone in the Throne Room was looking at her, pale faced. She puzzled over that for a second.

"Where is he?" she demanded from the minion at the communications station, the board closest to the thrones.

The man blanched even whiter than he had been. With a somewhat strangled expression he nodded towards the doorway to the restroom.

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch stood up and stepped from from her throne. She sized up the minions working the controls and went over to the biggest one there, a high school fullback whose professional football career had been dashed by an illegal hit to the knee. He'd turned to henching for the chance to get back at all the lucky bastards who had succeeded where he hadn't. He was a motivated minion.

"Come,"she ordered.

With a look around at the others near him, concern in his eyes because he didn't know what the very angry missus had in mind, he got up and followed out of the room into the passage to the restroom.

"Open it," she ordered.

He turned the knob. The door was locked. "Ocupado!" someone shouted from inside. The henchman stepped back, braced his shoulders against the hall and lashed out with his foot. On the third kick the door gave way.

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch entered the restroom. There was a sink, a urinal, and a partitioned area for the toilet. She pointed to the door. The henchman grasped the top of the door and gave a mighty wrench. It swung open, hanging from one unbroken hinge.

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch nodded towards the door behind them. The minion left. There was an prolong silence in the bathroom.

"Malcolm! What is the meaning of this?" she said, throwing a copy of the current issue of Villainous Times at him.

"Hey!" he exclaimed with wounded pride, "I'm busy in here! How about a little privacy!"

"I'm waiting!"she said.

"Well, ah," he looked over the cover and seized on the first things he saw, "Boobenstein is getting breast reduction surgery? That's insane. How can she be a 'monstrous mass of mammary menace' with tea cup size tits. It doesn't make an sense at all."

"That's not what I am talking about. This!" She pointed to the photo on the cover, of a notorious bank car robbery that had happened recently.

"Lady Au Pair stages bank robbery?" He read the blurb on the cover. "Honey, I didn't know you were branching out. heh, heh"

"That's not me, as you damn well know, but those-" she pointed to the two midgets dressed up like four year old boys, "those are my moppets. What did you do to them, Monarch? Why aren't they here in the Cocoon? Why are they working for some strange woman?"

"Honey, I'm kind of the middle of something," The Monarch said, pointing to the toilet he was sitting on. "I can't exactly finished my business with you hanging around here. Now pooky I'll explain everything if you'll just give me a little time here - alone."

"Fine," She snatched the magazine back out of his grasp. "I'm sure you'll have come up with a good story by the time you get out. I'll be looking forward to it. I like a good laugh now and then." She stalked towards the door. As she reached it there was the thunderous sound of an enormous fart. She paused in the doorway. "I keep telling you, you need more fiber in your diet!"

The Monarch took his time finishing his business and washing his hands. He was thinking of a good story to give his wife but none were coming to him. He might have to tell her, he thought with a choking sensation - the truth!

With a visible reluctance, he entered the Throne Room, but his wife wasn't there.

"She said to tell you she's in the suite," a minion told him. He cringed, expecting to be shot. The Monarch had a habit of killing the bearers of bad news, but he just turned and walked stiffly away.

The passage to the Suite wasn't long enough for the Monarch's liking at the moment. Quietly he pushed opened the door, then stood in shock. "You're leaving me?" he asked incredulously.

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch, born Sheila Kowalski, had taken off her Queen Monarch costume and was dressing in a plain, pale pink blouse. A grey skirt and jacket were laid out of their bed. "It's nothing," she said as she finished buttoning the blouse and reached for the skirt. "I've just got something to do. It's not Guild business."

The Guild of Calamitous Intent has strict rules about how members were supposed to behave. Not a list of ethical behavior. These are super-villains after all. But Guild members were expected to be in costume when conducting Guild related business. A Guild member's costume could be anything from an elaborate outfit like the Monarch's to something very simple like Monstroso's little cap with devil's horns.

"You're not leaving me?" The Monarch asked nervously.

"I'm not leaving you, though I am mad enough at you right now." Dr. Mrs. The Monarch said as she fastened the snap on her skirt and run up the zipper. She pulled on the jacket and paused to check her appearance on the mirror. She picked up a small hat off the dresser and perched it on her head. It was pink like her blouse but in a brighter shade.

"What kind of business do you have that isn't Guild business?" The Monarch demanded. There was a tremor of fear in his voice. Though he hated to admit it, he lived in daily fear that his wife would leave him. Particularly since he was incapable of stopping to think how she'd feel about some action of his. "You're going to see a divorce lawyer aren't you. Well the Grand Canyon isn't community property jurisdiction. And besides we were married by the Guild, only the Guild can divorce us!"

"Malcolm-" he hated it when she called him that. It reminded him too much of his mother (whom he could barely remember because his parents died when he was very young) when she scolded him. "I'm not getting a divorce. I just have to do - ah - something that's none of the Guild's business, OK? I'll be back."

"It's about those horrible midgets of yours." The Monarch whined.

His wife turned and looked at him severely. "Tim-Tom and Kevin were my babies. There were not for you to sell."

"But we're married. What's mine is your and vice versa!" The Monarch objected.

"That is so last century, and by last century I mean the 19th century. We're in the 21th century, Malcolm. Woman can hold their own property, even while married."

"But, pookums, they were so annoying. They were getting on the minion's nerves. A nervous minion is a useless minion and all that, you know. I had to get rid of them."

"You never talked about them to me. You could have asked me to locate them some place off the cocoon. You could have sent them on a mission. Besides you can't buy and sell people. It's against the Constitution or something."

"But she offered me lots of money..."

"Who?" Dr. Mrs. The Monarch pounced.

"Well - um - You see - It was like this," he paused to chuckle unconvincingly. "I got a call one day from some woman, maybe a girl for all I know. She sounded pretty young. Anyway, she said she had read where I may have possibly have implied that I was hinting..."

"Cut to the chase, Malcolm"

"She offered to buy the Moppets off me. I told her, of course, no deal, but she kept offering me more and more money. She wore me down. She wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. You've got to believe me, pookie, I tried. I really tried but she offered so much money and how could I resist? You know trust funds don't last forever..." The Monarch had fallen to his his knees at one point in his lament. Now he cautiously looked up and tried to smile pretty as his wife.

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch looked down at him sternly. Her face was set and unreadable. The Monarch waited for her to say something. She waited for a reasonable answer to come to her. Finally she said, "How much?"

"It it was a complicated deal. 10 percent off the top from all operations, some cash incentives, a balloon payment after five years. Heh heh. No body pays cash any more."

"How much up front?"

"Like I said, no one ever pays cash for stuff anymore. And she was just starting out so there were some cash flow issues."

"How! Much!" Dr. Mrs. The Monarch repeated.

"Well, nothing as such up front, but she did give me very good references."

"That's a likely story."

"No, seriously. Remember a couple of months ago there was that really big fire on the Venture Compound and I said I'd like to have been the one setting that blaze. Well, that was her plan."

"She's Arching the Ventures?" Dr. Mrs. The Monarch asked incredulously. Knowing how badly her husband hated the Ventures she was surprised that he make any kind of a deal with a competitor.

"Just Hank. I told she should aim higher than Hank Venture but she said 'you have to start somewhere'."

"What's her name?"

"I don't know. We weren't on a first name basis. She wired the money to my Cayman account and I had the morons dropped off at the bus station."

"You left my boys at the bus station. What if something had happened to them!" Dr. Mrs. The Monarch was aghast.

"Sweetum, They're your _murderous_ moppets. I don't think anyone is going to bother them."

"I'm so mad right now I don't even want to speak to you," she declared. "I may be out for quite a while. Don't wait up." And she went out the door and closed it behind her.

The Monarch remained on his knees for a moment contemplating his performance. It could have gone better, but she frightened him at times. It was hard to think clearly around her.

He jumped to his feet and ran out the door. "21! Come here! Where are you, 21!" He screamed into the echoing metals hall.

A passing minion paused and said, "Sire, the General doesn't work here any more." He braced himself for death.

"What?"

"The General, 21. He quit last Spring, Remember? We had a big bonfire with target practice."

"Oh yes. I can't beleive they made so many Star Wars action figures. Is he dead yet?"

"We're working on it, Sire." the minion replied surprised to find himself still alive.

"See that you do. So, who did I promote to replace 21?"

"Number 7"

"Number 7, come here this instant!"

A moment later a tall, slender man in a yellow and black costume ran up to the Monarch and slatuted. "Sire!"

"Number Seven, Dr. Mrs. The Monarch is leaving the Cocoon. I want a phalanx of at least two and no more than 3 minions to follow her every move and report back to me."

"Yes, Sir!" Number Seven reached for a communicator on his belt. "Oh, ah, Number seven," The Monarch added, "Be sure to remind your team that my wife is pretty good about losing shadows. If they lose her - don't come back."

"Yes, sir!"

"And number 7, after you send that team off I want you to organize a squad of at least 10 and no more than 15 of your best men - and kill number 21!"

Number seven's eyes shifted around desperately for a moment. "Sire, a moment of your time."

"Yes, what is it, 7?"

"This isn't, really, a good idea." he said in private.

"Why not? 21 has betrayed me. No one betrays The Monarch!"

Well - um - The thing is - they'll probably just desert."

"What! They wouldn't dare face the wrath of The Monarch!"

"Actually, Sire, I've been talking with the men and a lot of them have decided that they're rather face your wrath than Gary's."

"Ten - no, Twenty minion can't take down one man? He's hardly Brock Samson!"

"Well, mostly of these are new guys, boss, you understand. To them Brock Samson is a thing of myth, a fairy tale to scare new recruits. Only a few old guys, like me have been around long enough to have experienced an Brockgasm. The General is about as scary a person as they've met."

The Monarch stared at 7 for a long minute. "So you're saying we should just avoid number 21 from here on out?" he asked quietly, his tendency for bombast deflated by this news.

"I suppose so."

"Then how am I supposed to kill Dr. Venture and his diseased horde. 21's their freaking bodyguard!"

"Sic the Blackhearts on him. I hear they're pretty good."

"You're insane, Number 7. You're freaking insane. Go. Just go and put that tail on Dr. Mrs. The Monarch. I'm starting to get another one of my headaches."

[]

Sheila Kowalski rapidly strode from the Cocoon, around a rock outcropping and slipped into a small crevasse there. It was a crevasse only someone of her petite frame could slip through. It opened into a narrow canyon that extended a quarter-mile back from the Cocoon. At the end, under an overhanging rock was parked a light blue Geo Metro. It was, technically, 24's car since it had been bought with the money 24 got from the destruction of the power-blue Stanza 24 used to own. The Stanza was destroyed on one of the Monarch's missions. By the time the insurance company was ready to part with their money, however, 24 himself has died in the explosion that destroyed the Monarchmobile. Since he wasn't going to be using it and because it was a shame to let good money like that go to waste, Sheila had forged 24's signature, cashed the check and bought this tiny little car - without bothering to tell her husband about it. While she was furious at him for selling her moppets out from under her, she wasn't above keeping a few secrets from her husband.

The car started readily despite its infrequent use and sped along the canyon bed until it reached a narrow incline leading to the rim of the canyon. Part of the incline were so narrow that only a tiny car like the Geo could have made it. The other thing she liked about the car was that the turbofan she'd added was small enough to fit under the hood, as did the tank of nitrous. With the flip of two switches she could triple the car's horsepower, something no expected.

When she got to the surface she followed a Federal Park highway to the exit then began a dance around several roads, looping back and forth until she was sure she had lost any potential followers. She was sure The Monarch had set tails after her. It's what she would have done, but she doubted any of them could have kept up with her movements.

She turned towards Shopton. At first she had planned to drop in on Truckulese, a Guild member in good standing but also a self-mutilating drag-Queen who's addiction to surgeries ending up with her looking like a ten foot tall Peterbuilt with a Chrome Steel embedded brassiere. Sheila had number twoed for Truckulese some years back, before she's met the Monarch and the two had gotten along famously. Truckulese just wasn't into the Arching thing. She just wanted a cover for her increasingly bizarre and dangerous surgeries. So they had parted ways, with Sheila hooking up with Phantom Limb, her old college professor. (She still couldn't believe he'd flunked her one semester even after sleeping with him. She should have know he was a jerk ever before he revealed his special secret and opened her eyes to the world of organized mayhem. Moving on the the Monarch wasn't the best decision she'd ever made. Sure he was a jerk. :Like what man wasn't, but at least he loved her abjectly. Phantom Limb never loved anyone but himself.

While Truckulese was semi-retired from a business she had never really been in, like any true gossip she knew everything about everybody. Sheila was sure if any one know what this new Lady Au Pair was, or where to find her, Truckulese would be the one.

But the Monarch comment that this imposter was the same person who had attacked the Venture Compound suggested someone else who might know her a whole lot better.

[]

"Opening hailing frequencies" his OSI cell phone chimed, in Michelle Nicholas' low, sensuous voice. Gary sat up with a jolt as the sound woke him from a brief catnap. He looked at the face and read "private call / unknown caller." He wondered who might have had his very private and top secret unlisted phone number. Then he remembered he'd slipped it to Kim as she was being hauled away by the Blackhearts disguised as EMS techs.

He had given up all hopes of hearing from Kim Duquenes ever again, ever since she had determined on murdered one of the Venture boys, whom he was sworn to protect them. "Hey!" he answered eagerly."

His heart fall ten stories when he was answered by a deeply masculine voice. One he knew all too well. "If you still love her we've got to talk. Met me at the cafe near the bank as soon as you can. I'll be waiting. Bring Brock's car." She hung up before he could answer, probably knowing that if she waited for him to say anything it would just be a string of curses.

The last time he had talked to Dr. Mrs. The Monarch it had been followed shortly there after by an attack from the Monarch. This could well be a trap. Then again 'if you still love her,' though, was an odd thing to say. Well, he did still love Kim, and he suspected she loved him too, in a twisted sort of way. And he knew she was in trouble. Lots and lots of trouble. If the Monarch's Bitch wanted to help Kim the least he could do was hear her out.

But why Brock's car?

[]

"Because this is the pinnacle of American automotive engineering. I have never had a chance to ride in a car this cool. I figured, I had you over a barrel already, why not go for a good ride." She threw her head back with a luxurious sigh aad propped her bare feet on the dashboard. Her skirt slide down temptingly but Gary was though with Dr. Mrs. The Monarch, no matter how short her dresses or fine her legs looked. He already had a girlfriend!

"Also I suspect the Monarch is having me tailed, and I doubt they'll catch the car change."

"So what do you want?"

"I want to know where Kim is."

"So you can kill her? No dice!"

"Oh, Gary it's not like that at all."

"I know Guild policy just as well as you do. It's death to steal someone else's costume or identity."

"Without approval, Gary. Without approval. Look! The Monarch sold her my Moppets. I love those boys as if they were my own children. I don't want anything to happen to them."

"Your Moppets are the scariest thing on three continents. I don't think you have to worry about anything happening to them."

"Granted they tend to be a little feisty. But, Gary, please. All I want is to make sure the boys are happy where they are."

"You're not trying to take them back?

"I would in a minute but the Monarch... He's kind of prejudiced against them."

"They stabbed my best friend in the back. For all I know they pushed the button that killed him, too."

"I'm not asking for you to take them in. I just want to talk to your friend to make sure she's treating my boys all right."

"Do you know anyone who drives a silver Lexus?" Gary asked.

"No," Sheila replied as she dug in her purse and pulled out a compact pair of binoculars. Twisting around in the seat she peers at the car behind them. "How long have they been there?" She asked. She don't bother asking if Gary was sure they were tailing them. As a former henchmen he would have know if they were. Being tailed was something both of them, even though they now worked for opposing teams, was used to, expected.

"It's hard to tell from the tinted glass but I think I see a pair of yellow wings behind the steering wheel." She straightened up on the seat, putting his glasses away. "How did they find me? I thought I had been extra-careful today. That was one reason why I wanted you to pick me up, change of cars. And where did they get the money to rent a Lexus," she went on after a moment. "I can't imagine the Monarch authorizing that kind of an expenditure."

"Good choice for tailing someone," Gary said. "Every other car on the road is silver these days and who can tell a Lexus from a BMW or an Audi. Near perfect anonymity and a great ride as well."

"I like the old style cars, myself. Sheila said, unconcerned about the vehicle trailing them. "You see a Charger like this and you knew immediately what kind of car it was. Today's cars are so bland and interchangable. God I hate them."

Gary looked across at the woman seated beside him but said nothing. He was still mad at her for breaking his heart. He wasn't about to agree to anything with her. "What do you want to do about the tail?"

"Try not to kill them. It's bad for business to start killing off one's own minions."

"They're the only people the Monarch ever kills."

"We're not talking about him." Sheila answered primly.

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch was always hard to make out. She was always flip-flopping about stuff. She could be mad as a hornet about the Monarch one minute and defending him passionately the next. Ever her protestations about not meaning to hurt Kim were probably true. At that moment.

"Better buckle up then," Gary told her.

"This car doesn't come with seat belts."

"Then hang on to your tits because it's going to get bumpy."

Gary floored the engine, easing off only when they were doing over 100 mph. The Lexus maintained its distance. Gary wound the Charger in and around a series of curves and hills, passing cars as if they were standing still. Finally he found the place he was looking for. It was a long straight stretch next to a small lake. Marches oozed up to the side of the road and an sagging wire rope guard rail separated the road from the muck beyond.

He stomped on the brake as he spun the steering wheel. Once he felt the rear end break loose, he goosed the motor, spinning the wheels as he slid around in a smooth 180. As the car came out of the spin it was already gaining speed as it headed straight for the silver Lexus.

The speedometer was only marked to 120 mph and Gary had the needled pegged to that long before he came close to the Lexus. He knew that they knew that he had the Monarch's wife in the car with him. And as much as the Monarch wanted him dead, not at the price of his wife. It wasn't hard to play chicken when you have an Invulnerability card. He was grinning at the sweating face of the driver. At the last possible moment the driver of the Lexus yanked the wheel over hard. The rental car bounced against the guard wires. Nosed down hard, then catapulted end over end into the marsh.

They drove on in silence for a couple minutes. Gary kept his face stonily set but inside his heart was racing.

Eventually Dr. Mrs. The Monarch sighed with a shudder and looked at Gary. "Since when did you become such a bad-ass driver?"

There was a tinge of admiration in her voice that he had never heard before. An approval that set his heart fluttering. He had always wanted to earn the respect of Dr. Girlfriend back when he was a henchman. He never expected he actually would. He was about to smile and make some kind of quip when he remembered how she had broken his heart once before and was, even now, trying to extract information about Kim from him so that she could plot her doom. 'Don't get too friendly with the enemy,' he reminded himself. Aloud he said, "since you broke my heart."

They were entering into Shopton when she spoke again. "You know the penalty for stealing someone's Guild identity. It's death. But only if I insist on them taking action."

"It's automatic. What you think doesn't matter." Gary said stonily.

"Not if I license the costume to her."

"It's too late for that."

"It's the Guild. Money will cover over a lot of technicalities."

"Why do you care what happens to Kim?"

"I want her to take good care of my boys. If I bring them back to the Cocoon the Monarch will only find some other way to get rid of them. And I like her flair. She handled that bank car robbery really well. But mostly I just want my boys taken care of. I figured if anyone knew where she was, you would. I want to help her."

Gary flashed a quick glance at her then turned his eyes on the road. He admired Brock for his ability to instantly make decisions and never question whether it was the best decision. He, Gary Fuu, couldn't ever make his mind without considering things thirteen different ways and wonders for weeks later if he had made the right decision. And Kim's life hung on him making the right decision right now.

"You know she's a trained Blackheart. The Guild's going to have a hard time executing a blackout on her."

"Then she has the Blackhearts on her tail as well." Sheila reminded him.

"I really don't know where she is," he said. "The last time we talked she said she had to go away, never said where. Then she hit the Ventures. We didn't talk a lot there. Then the Blackhearts came and took her away. I assume she's escaped them but she's not told me where she's at. I think she's decided I'm a liability."

"I'm so sorry, Gary. That is so messed up. I know you feel honor bound to protect the Ventures but I would be remiss as the wife of The Monarch to not suggest that you ought to throw in your lot with hers. I think you have a real future as a Duo. But look, if you still care for her, at least try to tell her I want to talk with her, all right? Oh, pull over here. There's my car."

Gary parked beside the blue Geo and sat holding the wheel in silence. Dr. Girlfriend was half out of the door waiting for his decision. At last he muttered, "I'll see what I can do," slammed the car into gear and drove off, spining Sheila around as she jumped back from the moving car.

She watched him drive off, stunned that he'd nearly knocked her down with the car. She felt a familiar ache in her heart and had to speak to herself sternly. "Sheila you're a married woman. You already have all the man in your life that you can handle. You don't need any more 'projects' to nurture."


	3. Chapter 3

Some days are inherently more interesting than others. It was barely noon and Dr. Girlfriend had already had a fight with her husband, taken a ride in a classic Charger and had the bejeesus scared out of her when Gary Fuu, the former Henchman 21, had played chicken with the recon team her husband, The Monarch, had sicced on her. Who knew what the afternoon bring?

Gary had let her off outside a small cafe. She walked into the outdoor seating, ordering as sandwich from the waitress. Normally she only had a salad with maybe some cottage cheese but today was going to be a long day. While she ate she kept a watch for the silver Lexus her husband's minions had used. As time passed and no car appeared she smiled, pleased that her husband's spies were still trying to get their car out of the marsh Gary's reckless driving had forced them into.

She ordered a large coffee to go and walked back to the alley where she had left the blue Geo Metro she'd used to drive into town. She eased into traffic and made for the Interstate. Out of habit she checked traffic behind her for any tails. Traffic was light and none of the cars behind her remained behind her for long. About twenty miles out of town she reached under the dashboard and opened a secret compartment. She flipped up one of the switches. The car sagged for a moment as the tiny engine labored under a sudden heavy load but as the turbo fan spun up to speed, pumping huge gulps of air into the tiny engine, the engine started to howl, the landscape started flashing by. The little car's stock speedometer was marked to only 90 miles per hour, but switching on the compressor also activated a reduction gear on the speedometer. When the speedometer clocked 60 miles an hour, she was actually going twice that. It was a long way to Las Vegas, and she wasn't good at patience.

Dr. Girlfriend wove in and around the few cars on the Interstate, passing them as if they were standing still. The land around Shopton had been tree-lined with the occasional lakes but the farther she got away from that little oasis the land dried out, became covered with thin dry grass with the random tree in the distance. The road ran straight as an arrow to the Nevada city, riding up low ridges and down into broad shallow valleys.

As she flashed past the occasional car in the opposite lane she reflected on Gary playing Chicken with the minions. He had finally scared the shit out of her doing that. She prided herself on understanding men and being able to control them. At that moment it had felt like she had lost all control over the ex-henchman. Was he really trying to scare the other car into the lake or had he intended suicide-by-automobile?

She picked up a traffic cop as she neared Vegas. The vehicle turned on its flashing red and blue lights and rapidly gained on her. It must be one of those converted Mustang cop cars with a top speed well above most stock autos. She pressed down on the throttle. The howling turbo started screaming. She had to be careful at this point not to blow the head off the engine by using too much compression. The Geo spurged ahead at unguessable speeds, small bumps in the road sending it flying through the air. But the cop car remained on her tail. Crap, she thought, it must have a turbo boost as well. But did it have nitro she wondered as she saw the first outlying housing developments.

She reached into the open control panel and flipped up the other switch, then pushed a level next to it ahead slightly, feeding just a little laughing gas into the airstream. There was a bang and a loud blattttt coming out of the tailpipe and the little car surged forward another twenty miles and hour. The cop car disappeared in the distance and just as it vanished from sight she killed the nitro, killed the turbo, hit the brakes and skidded into the first housing project she came to. She wove a high speed trail through the subdivision before coming out the other side. She changed roads and directions a few more times, before tapping the button that would rotate the license plate on the car to one from another state.

She drove sedately to her destination.

[]

It looked like any other other small commercial office space. Two stories high, generous parking lot and a wood and brick exterior that cried out "80s". Inside an older, heavy-set woman greeted her from the reception desk. Very few people would have recognized her as Beatrice "Honey Bee" Hungarford, former Number Two for Jeff "Yellowjacket" Stingaree. When the Yellowjacket had stung his last foe Beatrice had taken a position "inside" rather than look for another Arch to second for. Whether she recognized Sheila Kowaslski was immaterial. Because Sheila was not wearing her Guild colors and it was policy that no Guild member recognize said incognito member. "Can I help you," she asked, in the same tones she would asked any one else who had wandered into the building.

"I'm like to see Professor Moriarty." There was no Professor Moriarty, it was code asking to talk to the Guild-Civilian Ombudsman.

"He's not in right now. Can I ask what this concerns?"

"It's between me and the Professor," Sheila insisted.

This was a Guild Service Center. It may have looked like any other law office in the area, except behind the paneled wall in back of Honey Bee were secure rooms where one could talk about world conquest, or how to kill someone or dispute a Guild charge without fear of eavesdropping. One could enter hospital claims, file unfair labor practices, or defaults on real contracts (not to be confused with the 'lip service' contracts that Guild members never had any intention of fulfilling. The Guild of Calamitous Intent wasn't just a club for mastercriminals but was a full service business offering health insurance for the uninsurable, investments and money laundering to those barred from the international banking system. And it mediated disputes between members and non-members. It was where one went to complaint about stealing one's Guild identity or costume.

"Is there someone else you could talk to?" Honey Bee was trying to narrow down the area of conflict. No one wanted to involve the Ombudsman if possible. That reached high up into the Guild hierarchy. Silly, foolish complaints could bring down the wrath of the Council or 13, or any number of Minsters below the governing board of the Guild. And being Villains All, annoyance was close to being a death sentence. The goal of any Service Center was to deal with an issue at as low a level as possible. Hopefully the matter would be one where some one in the office could actually resolve it.

"Only the Professor," Sheila insisted. "I'll wait," and crossed over to a low slung armchair and sat down on the edge. There was a recent issue of Villainous Times on the table beside her. She picked it up and started to read.

Homey Bee finished typing up a report of her conversation and emailed it to the Office Manager. The noted ended with "666," both "the Mark of the Beast" and code for "Recognized-Incognito." A flag popped up on the manager's computer screen. With a sigh he closed down his attempt to break into the Council of 13's email program. He was hoping that a little blackmail would get him out of Member Services and into actual organized mayhem. Well, there would always be another day. Time stretched on forever here in Las Vegas. Super-villains tended to avoid the bright lights.

He switched on the spycam in the waiting area, and saw who was waiting there. That he didn't immediately recognize the woman sitting there said a lot about his failure to advance in his career. He was about to call his secretary, what's her name, and demand to know who this "recognized-incognito" was till he remembered that a successful executive never displays ignorance in front of the help. So he called up the Guild's Mug Shoot library and went over it until he found a match. Sheila Kowalski. Hmm, quite a list of alter egos. When he saw that one of them was Lady Au Pair he knew what the issue was. Even he had hear about the bank robbery she had committed. He wasn't sure that this required the intervention of the Ombudsman. On the other hand, her dossier suggested she was not something to aggravate. He picked up his phone and made a call.

Where it went was hard to say. It traveled in and out of several dimensions the Guild was friendly with before arriving someplace that didn't exist and jingled the phone of someone who was thought to be dead.

"Ombudsman," Elvis said.

He listened for a moment. "I'll take the call. Set up a conference room." He hung up, picked up a mask that sat on the corner of his desk and put it on. Guild business could only be conducted in costume. Guitars outlined the eyeholes, treble clefs were embroidered on the cheeks. Rather than concealing his identity, it announced it to the world. He turned on his web cam and waited for the secure connection light to come on. "Only the lonely" he hummed softly while waiting. He missed touring but world domination came first.

After a minute the light turned green and the monitor lit up. The incognito woman from the waiting room was now wearing a small crown. This satisfied Guild protocol since it was an identifying part of her costume. Dr. Mrs. The Monarch was in the building.

"Dr. Mrs. The Monarch, what do I owe the pleasure?" The King of Rock and Roll (deceased) asked.

"It's about that incident in Shopton last month."

"Ah, I thought it might be that," Elvis drawled. "Don't worry your brown eyes blue, we'll have that imposter punished in short order. The Guild takes care of its own."

"That's just it, Elvis, I'd like a stay on that blackout."

"You're going to do it yourself?" the king asked.

"No. She has my moppets..."

"Ah, a hostage situation. Don't cry, little Darling, we know how to deal with that, too."

Well, yes, but that's' not why I want the stay. It's come to my attention that the Moppets have become a source of - ah - friction at the Cocoon. So I was thinking that it might be best all around if they stayed with this imposter."

"Honey child, I can stay the erasure but I can't suspend one. You'd have to petition the Sovereign about that and even so I doubt that he's make an exception in your case."

"You could cancel an erasure if the original order was a mistake," Dr. Mrs. The Monarch reminded him. She had removed her gray jacket and hung it on the back of her chair. Her pink blouse hinting at her former life as Dr. Girlfriend.

Elvis paused and looked at the papers on the desk before him. He looked puzzled for a moment. "Darlin' - do you mind if I call you Sheila, even though we're officially on the clock?"

"Please."

"Well, Sheila, you've got me more confused then a hound dog in a shoe factory. So many shoes and he doesn't know which one to chew first."

"Just as long as it's not the blue suede one."

Elvis smiled, "But you see my point?"

"I do. What I'm saying is that the problem goes away if we happen to discover that this imposter had licensed the character of Lady Au Pair before she robbed the bank."

Elvis sat back in his chair and thought. "You can produce this license?"

"As soon as I've had a chance to talk with her. That's why I need the stay of erasure."

"I can authorize a stay of three days. Do you think you can get license by then?"

"Yes."

Elvis frowned and flipped through his papers again. "You sound pretty confident, darling. The Guild's Erasure squad still haven't located her and they've been on it for a couple weeks. You won't have much time to do what they haven't be able to do. Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

"It's for the sake of my moppets. I don't want anything to happen to them. Besides I know them a bit better than the Blackout squad does."

"You're not concerned about unleashing those bastards on a naive, young girl?"

"Elvis!" Dr. Mrs. The Monarch bristled. "My boys are perfect angels!"

"They're perfect somethings..." The late King of Rock and Roll gathered up the papers in front of him and set them in a pile to the side. He clasped his hands together and leaned towards the web cam. "Sheila you always were the prettiest little thang. I could never resist your requests." He paused and smiled at a memory. "Well, except that one at the Guild party. The spirit was willing but the flesh was old and tired..." He pulled himself back to the present. "To call off the Erasure you will need to produce a contract signed by the two of you before the stay is over. The contract will have to be back-dated a month to cover her bank robbery. To get the contract entered into the Guild's database, back-dated by a month will require a substantial bribe. Are you willing to pay it?"

"I've got cash."

"Good, good. Also she will have to join the Guild."

"Once I find her I'm sure I can convince her of the wisdom of both. My understanding is that she wants to Arch Hank Venture. Only she didn't realize there were formalities to doing such. She's a smart girl, or so I'm given to understand, so I think she'll understand the important of Guild sanction once it's explained to her. "

"Hank Venture..." the King frowned and reached for a folder on the other side of his desk. "So we're talking about _that_ girl." The Ombudsman glanced through the papers in that folder. "This puts a different light on matters, you know, Honey Chil'."

"Some random attack on Hank Venture... It could have been anybody. He is quite annoying when you get to know him."

"Sheila, Sheila, Sheila. You know damn well he's a Venture. There are no random attacks on the Ventures. It has to be sanctioned by the Guild. So you're saying that she was Arching Hank Venture without permission."

"She was a Blackhearts trainee at the time," Dr. Mrs. The Monarch said glibly. She hadn't considered the implications of Kim's attack on the young Venture boy, being too obsessed with protecting her moppets. Though she kept a calm and smiling face on the outside, she was in a panic inside. "I'm sure that was just some Blackhearts training mission."

"She was Arching without Guild license!" the King reminded her angrily.

"She was a Blackheart at the time."

"No one quits the Blackhearts. If she was a Blackheart then, then she's a renegade now."

"Yes, yes, I know," interrupted Dr. Mrs. The Monarch. "That means they've got a hit squad out for her as well."

"There's nothing I can do about that," Elvis reminded her.

"I never asked you to," she answered him tartly.

There was a moment of awkward silence as each sort to regain their composure.

Finally the king spoke. "I hope you brought a lot of cash because there are going to be a lot of bribing required to paper over this."

"I'm good for whatever amount you need," Dr. Mrs The Monarch replied.

The king smiled at that. "Yes, you are. You're about the only member of the Guild who can say that and I'd believe them." His smiled turned upside-down. "Ok, here are the conditions. The license for her to be Lady Au Pair needs to be back-dated by two months. That's going to double the bribe involved."

"Done."

"She has to join the Guild.

"Done."

"And that has to be back dated two months to cover her unauthorized Arching." He named a very large amount of money. "That's its going to take to get that done.

"Finally, as penalties for her unauthorized Arching she will have to do a mission of the Guild's choosing, and she can not Arch any of the Ventures for one year, from today's date."

"She's going to be very disappointed," Dr. Mrs. The Monarch reminded him.

"Then reminded her that being disappointed beats being dead any day."

"But she will be allowed to Arch Hank Venture after a year?"

"Assuming that your husband hasn't done anything to the Ventures in the meantime."

"I understand. I appreciate your co-operation in this matter. The welfare of Tim-Tom and Kevin have been a great concern of mine."

"I do not see what you see in those two hellions. Is there anything else I can do for you while we have this secure link?" the King asked.

"I was wondering if you'd like to come to this year's Christmas party at the Cocoon. It would be a real honor and you'd help the minion's morale immensely."

"Ah, Sheila, dahling, I'd be honored but you know I've retired from giving concerts. My pipes ain't what they used to be. Besides if I sang at one Christmas party I'd have to sing at all of them and that would make Christmas run nearly year-round, what with all the operations the Guild underwrites. So I have to decline all of them. But I still remember fondly that Christmas party at Guild headquarters. before you hooked up with the Monarch. You were and still are the prettiest li'l thing in the Guild and if i were to break my rule about singing, I'd break it with you first. But I just can't. Anything else?"

She shook her head.

"Then, till next time...'you ain't nothing but a hound dog,' " he crooned a short bar before cutting the connection.

Sheila left the Secure room and found paperwork waiting for her on Honey Bee's desk by the time she walked back to the front of the office. She wasn't sure about the other Super-Villains but for her Elvis had always been extremely prompt. She took the papers. left a wad of cash for the office visit and went back to her car.

She looked over the papers briefly. Everything seemed to be in order. There was even a dossier on the penalty mission Kim would have to do. Dr. Gravity. And excellent choice. But how did they decide on the penalty mission and have the dossier ready in the short time it took for her to leave the conference room? Had they anticipated her coming to save her babies?

She folded the papers and placed them in her purse then began a leisurely drive back to Shopton. It was dark when she got there. She checked into a motel. She could have driven back to the Cocoon. It wasn't that far away. But she had a busy day ahead of her and if she went to back to the Cocoon, her husband, The Monarch, would be after her to tell him when she'd been doing all day, then begging for make-up sex and then she's have to sneak out again in the morning. While she wouldn't mind the sex she wasn't ready to make up with The Monarch. As she undressed to shower she thought that things were going along pretty well.


	4. Chapter 4

They were a three man team, a control and two "Strangers," field agents from the Guild of Calamitous Intent. They were sitting in a large maple tree inside what might look like a child's treehouse from the outside. Inside, it also looked like a child's treehouse. The child was rolled up in a sleeping bag in the corner, anesthetized for the duration.

"Juvenile spotted coming around the corner," Ears told Control.

"Eyes?" Control spoke.

The other agent brought around a camera with a large telescopic zoom. He rested it on its monopeg leg and adjusted the focus. "Looks like a fat white boy with an all-day sucker," he said.

"You call that 'fat'?" Ears challeneged. "He looks more heavy-set than fat." Ears was holding a pair of binoculars. "Probably someone idea of a full back. "When I was in school we didn't call a kid fat until he was at least as wide as he was tall."

"Could be the target Tim-Tom. Does he look like he had a five o'clock shadow?" Control demanded.

"Nay," replied Eyes, whose scope had the better magnification.

"Of course he could have shaved really close before going out," Ears objected.

"Can't you just leave it alone?" Ears demanded sharply. "Every thing I say you have to contradict. All day long it's nag, nag, nag from you."

"Can it!" ordered Control. He was pressing buttons on his cell phone. "Damn it! My phone's dead! I can't raise headquarters.

"What do you need HQ for," asked Ears. "We've got our assignment. We don't have to check in every time there's a possible sighting."

"It's protocol, you dummy!" Eyes snorted. "It's something you're going to have to learn if you're ever going to be more than a mere Stranger."

"What's your excuse," Ears snapped back.

"Is that even a retort?" Eyes asked. "Control, subject is carrying three plastic bags of groceries. I can see the outline of a carton of milk, some cans of soup and a box of some sort."

"It's ice cream, it's double bagged for insulation," Ears added.

"Either of you two got a cell phone on you?" Control asked. They shook their heads. Which is why they didn't hear that their mission had been suspended. Control held out his hands for the binoculars. Ears passed them over reluctantly. After studying the approaching small person for a while he concluded, "It's the target. Follow him to his destination. That's where we'll find the imposter. I'll clean up here, mind-wipe the kid and wait for your report at the vehicle."

The "vehicle" was a black Cadillac parked two blocks away. An older, more experienced Control would have just called it "The Caddy," but this Control was fresh out of Officer Training School where everyone was prim and proper and spoke in a kind of formalized jargon. The Strangers, older than he, had trouble not rolling their eyes when he said things like that.

"Oh, uh, Eyes maintain surveillance on the house while Ears comes to report. We don't want them escaping after we finally found them. heh, heh." He laughed to cover his embarrassment over lapse in command.

"Sure thing, boss," Ears said as he swung down through the limbs of the tree and dropped to the ground. Eyes was right behind him. Ears motioned for Eyes to take up a position in advance of the walking small person while he circled around a bit to get behind the apparent child.

Their target was a child, maybe five years old, heavy set, white with an Arizona Diamondback baseball cap on his head, turned around backwards. He wore jeans, a white T-shirt and thick dirty sneakers. If there was a logo on the shoes it was obscured by the dirt. The boy was carrying some sacks of groceries, as Eyes had described. He was taking a somewhat zig-zag course through the older housing development. He paused in front of a shoe store to look at the name brand sneakers there. When, after a moment he moved on, Ears hurried up to the corner of the store and waited for the chance to move further up the block. He couldn't see Eyes anywhere, which was good because if he could, so could the suspect. Shadowing people without being seen was the whole point of shadowing. That was what they were trained for. They'd be pretty lousing agents of the Guild if people could tell that they were being shadowed.

The 'boy' eventually entered a small bungelow in the middle of a block. It was white with white trim and white asphalt shingles on the roof. It looked like every other house on the street. There was no car in the drive but there was a garage in the back where one might be.

Eyes let himself be seen by Ears. They had the house covered fore and aft. After a half-hour waiting they were satisfied that the 'boy' was not coming out. Ears cautiously worked his way around to Eyes' location. "Any sign of activity from the house," he asked. "Nothing, but I've kept a close one on the back door. No one's left so he has to be in there."

"Good, keep an eye on them and I'll get the boss."

"Right. This is going to look good on our resumes."

"Yeah." Ears turned to walk away. He way was blocked but a black dwarf holding a very large knife.

"Going somewhere?" Kevin asked.

"Crap! I thought you said you kept a close eye on the house!" he accused his partner.

"I did!" he insisted.

"I was never in the house," the murderous moppet said with a broad grin.

"Less talk, more cutting, I say," said a voice behind the two Strangers. They turned to see Tim-Tom the other moppet blocking their escape. He had switched his ball cap for a curly wig and dandified cap.

The two Strangers reached for their weapons...

[]

Control was standing next to the Vehicle, wondering why it was taking so long to Ears to report. Something hit the car with a loud thud and rolled to a stop at his feet. He looked down in horror. It was Ears' head! He turned to run and walked straight into Kevin's knife.

"That was easy,"Kevin said as he wiped his blade clean on Control's shirt.

"Should we tell mum about this?" Tim-Tom asked in his cockney accent.

"Are you crazy?" Kevin said, digging through the pockets of the dead man for the car keys. "If we tell her about these Guild hitmen we'll have to tell her about everything else we should have told her."

"We can't keep taking out these Erasure squads. Eventually someone will notice that they never come back."

"Why not?" Kevin asked. He popped open the truck. "Wouldja get a load of this!" he exclaimed. "There's enough room in there are all three of 'em with room to space.

"Ooo. That is a lot of room," Tim-Tom agreed. standing on tiptoes to see into the trunk. "I bet we could fit that fat jerk 21 in here."

Kevin gave it a scientific estimation. "Nah. I don't think he'd fit, besides we'd need a forklift to his his blubbery carcass in there."

"So we would, so we would. Well, let's get this guy loaded and pick up the other two and dump this car before Mum starts wondering where we are."

Tim-Tom climbed onto the driver's seat, kneeling where he could grasp the wheel, Kevin squatted in the footwell where he could operate the pedals. Both men were too short to drive by themselves but had become expert at working a car as a team. They softly maneuvered the car to the alley where they had left the two bodies. As they got out of the car Kevin picked up his line of thought. "We don't have to take out all the hit squads the Guild throws at us, just the ones until Mum shows up."

"Mum?"

"The old Mum," Kevin explained. "The old Mum: she really took good care of us. She'll find a way to get us out of this mess."

"With or without the new mum?" Tim-Tom wondered.

"Doesn't matter? The new mum bought us from the Monarch like we were an old sofa. Why should we be loyal to someone like that? On three."

On the count of three they grunted and hoisted the first body into the Caddy's trunk.

"You know, it seems more like the Monarch was trying to get rid of us and she just happened along, Tim-Tom said meditatively. "She's been a pretty good Mum over all. She listens to us and when she has a better idea, it actually is a better idea. She's a mum I could get to like."

"She's easy on the eyes, too."

"Oh, yeah. Doesn't always remember to lock the door when she's taking a shower. She's a natural redhead."

"Go on! Carpet doesn't match the drapes?"

"Not a bit!" They tossed the second body from the alley on top the other two and slammed the trunk. They debated for a bit where to abandon the car. As they drove off to their destination Tim-Tom continued the discussion. "I'd like to keep the new Mum. We need to tell her stuff about the Guild.

"It's too late for that. It was too late the first day she put on the hat. All we can do is hope for the old Mum to do something."

"She's going to be so pissed at us. I wouldn't count on her. I'm going to keep my knife sharp, and close to me."

"Don't you always?"

"Well, I'm going to keep my shoes on as well. For running."

[]

Kim Duquenes looked up from the TV show she was watching as the front door opened and Tim-Tom came into the house with his bags of groceries.

"I'm back, Mum," he said, all politeness.

Kim frowned. "What took you so long. You should have been back an hour ago?"

"Well, you see it was like this," Tim-Tom began. "There was this guy at the store that kept looking at me. Looking funny-like, you know. I don't think he saw through my disguise but he must have thought it odd that a young kid would be buying stuff by himself, or maybe he figured that I'd have more money on me and wanted to rob me. Anyway I thought I ought to take a round-about route home, just to throw him off, if he was trying to follow me."

The story sounded plausible enough so Kim dropped it. "They're running that episode of '48 hours' which recreated our robbery," she said.

Tim-Tom went into the kitchen where he met Kevin quietly slipping into from the back door. He gave him an thumbs up meaning that 'Mum' had bought his story. They put away the groceries, sighing over the soft, dripping box of ice cream, before joining 'Mum' in the living room.

Kim Duquesne, Lady Au Pair, these days, sat on her feet on a couch in their safe house. She was wearing a lavender frock with a hem coming just below her knees and a wide - but high - neck. White lace fringed the hem, neck and sleeves, and a small round hat with a tall, dangling daisy perched on her head. It made her look like the Victorian nanny of a popular 60s movie. Which was the idea.

"Hey, Tim-Tom when did you get smacked by the tar brush?" Kevin cracked. On the show the murderous moppets were being played by two Black youths. They sported large afros instead of Kevin's Jerri curles.

"Pifff! Those kids look to be at least twelve," Tim-Tom replied. "Can't they get any details right? I suppose they got some old matron to play Mum, huh?" He glanced at Kim as he said that, pausing momentarily as he tried to look up her dress.

Kim scowled at the dwarf but he just smiled innocently. The Moppets weren't just skilled Guild trained henchmen. They were incurable perverts, always trying to look up her dress or down her blouse, and not always caring whether she caught them at it or not. She was less annoyed that her moppets might see something looking up her dress, but their persistent attempts was irritating. She had retaliated recently by adding muted pink tights - opaque tights - to her costume. As it was she had taken to locking the door whenever she used the can, took a shower or undressed for bed. They would always find some reason to burst in on her. And no matter how many times she lectured them, they wouldn't stop. They were chronic. She had considered dumping their bodies in a trash can somewhere and going on as a solo but they were pretty useful for reconnaissance. No expected "kids" to be scoping out a heist. And when it came to killing someone she'd rather leave that to their all-too eager hands.

"Why don't we use some of that loot we got and go on a nice vacation. Spain is nice this time of year," Kevin said.

"They've got lovely beaches," Tim-Tom added

"N-u-d-e Beaches," Kevin added unnecessarily.

"Has Mum ever been to a nude beach?" Tim-Tom sounded ever so innocent asking that. He had trouble keeping the smirk off his face.

"Look, you weasels, I don't intend to go to a nude beach just so you can see my tits."

"That's not what we meant at all," Tim-Tom complained.

"Our old mum never treated us thisaway," Kevin added.

"Your old mum didn't exactly do anything to stop the Monarch from selling you to me," Kim reminded them cruelly.

How Kim Duquenes became Lady Au Pair was itself a twisted story. She had been a typical high schooler. Then she fell in with the Smart Crowd, only they weren't so smart. They just had a lot of money and did a lot of drugs. Kim didn't have a lot of money but that didn't stop her from doing a lot of drugs, burning through friendships and family relationships until one day she walked into an episode of "Intervention." Only there wasn't any cameras, smarmy TV hosts or make-up artists to hide the bags under her eyes, or her pale, grey complexion.

She was sentenced to ninety days in rehab. She thought of it as a sentence. Her parents had not only packed her bags, but her record collection, knick-knacks and everything else from her room. And changed the locks on their doors. Message: We have no daughter! That was cold but she had been robbing them blind to pay for her drugs.

So she did her time. And found that she liked not being a slave to her addictions. But she had actually swapped one addiction for another, becoming a Jesus-freak. After rehab she stayed in Florida with the cult that helped recovering addicts. That lasted about a year before she realized one morning that praying on your knees six times a day sucked. What she really wanted to do was become a super-villain!

The idea had dated back a year or so ago when she had gone on a double date with her friend Triana Orpheus. Their dates had been a set of twins, Hank and Dean Venture, sons of the famous super-scientist, Thaddeus Venture. Their father may have been a genius (and Kim had since come to question even that) but his sons were two of the stupidest people she had ever met. Dean had been trying to impress Triana, who he had some kind of a crush on. Hank, the blond, was just plain obnoxious, trying to dominate the situation at all time, and filled with useless information, misinformation and a total lack of social skills. But it was a chance encounter in the restroom with a weird woman with a man's voice that had convinced her that super-villainy was for her. The woman had at first, appeared to be coming on to her, but in fact had mistaken her techno-punk clothes style for a super-villain's costume. She gave her a card, suggestion that they do something together some time. That had been Dr. Girlfriend.

Coming back from Florida, Kim had avoided her family and old friends. She hadn't forgiven her family for the intervention and doubted that any of her old friends would want her back. Instead she joined a group she'd seen advertised in Villainous Times, the newspaper for super-villains, United Conflict Resolution Systems. That turned out to be a cover for the Blackhearts, an assassination organization run by ex-Russian agent Molotov Cocktease. They resolved conflicts alright - through death!

Kim saw the Blackhearts as a stepping stone for her own career.

Through their academy in an old convert, Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrows, she had learned all about hand-to-hand combat, use of weapons and how to acquire blackmarket goods and services. But Kim had drawn the line at Cocktease's insistent that all Blackhearts master the seduction of random men. She'd sleep with too many questionable lovers when she was a drug addict and didn't want to start all over again. This had forced a break up with the Blackhearts.

Foolishly she had decided to make a stab at killing Hank Venture before blowing town and while the plan was exceptionally well thought out and would have worked if not for the Venture's meddling bodyguard, Gary Fuu. Embarrassingly, she had been dating Gary for the past two weeks and had fallen in love with him. But not even love was going to stop her from her quest. If she was the irresistible force, Gary was the immovable object. And proved to be a little more immovable then she was irresistible.

She was dying when the EMS finally arrived. Only it wasn't the EMS, it was a crew of Blackhearts They had plans for punishing her for breaking with them. Of making her one of them no matter what.

The problem with training someone to be a flawless assassin is that they're really good at getting out of situations.

She escaped.

She laid low for a while, doing small heists for bread money. But if she was ever going to Arch Hank Venture in a meaningful way she needed money - and lots of it. And to pull off any really big robbery was going to take minions. Good ones. She was still wrestling with that when she read an interview in Villainous Times with The Monarch. Not only was there a long section on Dr. Mrs. The Monarch - she always read everything she could find on the former Dr. Girlfriend - but there was a brief comment about her days as Lady Au Pair, the nanny-themed super-villain. Seemed her Murderous Moppets were still with her, but the Monarch wasn't a fan of them. It sounded like he'd love nothing better than to get rid of them. So she called him up.

One doesn't just call up super-villains, of course. They're not listed in the phone book and many are on the run from the law. But if you know the right people and can offer them enough money...

A local crime wave of muggings followed as Kim built up enough money to buy the Monarch's phone number from an arms dealer. Negotiations with the Monarch took longer than expected since she didn't have a lot of available money but eventually she convinced him to sell her the Moppetts for money down and 10% of their next five years earnings.

Which is why, when the Moppets suggested a vacation in Spain she had been opposed to it. Not only because she wanted to get right on to killing Hank Venture, but also because a lot of the money they'd stole was already spent.

The show ended and Kim sat up and stretched her legs. "Kevin," she said to the black moppet, "be a dear and fetch mum the laptop. "Oh, and be sure you erase all the porn on it, OK?"

Kevin had hopped up and was going to his and Tim-Tom's bedroom when she said the last. He turned to look at her and said, with a straight face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Kim stared back for a moment. Without breaking eye contact she said, "be on your way, now" Kevin was the first to look away as he went to get the computer. In absence of any other advice, Kim had been reading a book on training dogs. It's advice about establishing one's self as the alpha male in a group made as much sense to her as any.

Kevin was a few minutes in bring the computer back, and it was already warm so he must have been purging it of his and Tim-Tom's habitual Internet activity.

She looked at a couple of her secret email addresses. Aside from some spam there were no messages. Of course you don't get email if you don't tell people that you have an email address. In a way she was disappointed that Gary hadn't found one of her addresses yet. She thought she had left sufficient clues, but maybe not. Or maybe he had written her off since as long as he worked for the Ventures and she was trying to kill one of them work was going to conflict with romance.

From there she went to the Villainous Times web-site, checking the headlines, reading a couple of the in-depth pieces that sounded interesting. Finally she went to the Loser's Page, as she called it: the personal notices. The third one down caught her eye. From "lugnut?" to Deacon, "You forgot your manual." Gary had always been her lovable lug. Not too smart, always trying to be ingratiating, willing to put up with just about anything from her. And Deacon sounded a lot like her last name of DuQuenes. But what was this about a manual? She had left everything behind when she'd flee the Blackhearts but none of that included a manual. The Blackhearts were pretty clear about 'leave no paper trail.'

"Kevin, Tim-Tom?" she called.

"Yes, mum?" Tim-Tom came out of the hall to their bedrooms. He was wet, and wore only a towel wrapped around his middle.

"Was I supposed to get a manual along with you two?"

"A manual, mum?" He looked at her quizzically.

"Yeah. A manual. There's a message on the personals column that looks like it might be aimed at me. Says I'm missing a manual?"

"Kevin and I are completely house-broken if that's what you mean." He wasn't looking at her in the eye. It didn't take a book on dog whispering to know he was lying.

She stared at him for a long minute but he wouldn't crack. "Get dressed and start packing," Kim made a snap decision. "We're moving."

[]

She was in her bedroom collecting her toiletries when she heard the doorbell ring. She started like a deer who hears a twig snap. She heard Kevin call out, "I'll get it." She started to relax. It would take a pretty big army to get past that murderous little dwarf.

She was stuffing underwear on top of the cosmetics when she heard Kevin again. "Mum?" There was a questioning quality to it, but it didn't sound like he was calling to her. Puzzled, Kim picked up the Glock sitting in easy reach on the dresser and tucked it into the pocket she'd specially sewn into her costume. The pocket was just behind the curve of her hip, at arm length where she could quickly grab it without looking like she was reaching for something.

She stepped out into the living room and stopped in shock. There in the open door stood Lady Au Pair!

"Mum, it's...Mum!" Kevin whispered

The woman in the doorway wore the same lavender dress, though with a pink slip intentionally showing below the hem. There was the same big buttoned jacket over the bodice and the small small hat with the gigantic daisy dangling on her head. There were some differences in small details but it was like looking into a mirror.

"Nice costume," the woman in the doorway said "Where have I seen it before?" She stepped through the door into the house. "Close the door," she commanded the little man still hanging on the the doorknob, "and get your brother. You two are in so much trouble..."

She walked past Kim into the living room, and through it into the dining room. She stopped at the table there and gingerly swiped at the dust piled up on it. Kim and the moppets generally ate in front of the TV. "We have a lot to talk about, Missy, and not much time. ... And get rid of that gun you're trying to hide. You're not allowed to use weapons of that caliber."

The intruder hoisted a large carpet bag on the table and opened it. Momentarily Kim expected her to drag a floor length lamp out of it. "Well, come along, chop-chop!" she commanded.

Kim followed her into the dining room, but instead of ditching the gun, she was now openly holding it. "Dr. Girlfriend, what an honor! But what are you doing here?" she demanded.

"It's Lady Au Pair, missy. The one and currently, the only Lady Au Pair. Your wearing my costume is not just an insult, it's against the rules."

"Rules? Since when are super-villians bound by rules?"

The older Lady Au Pair looked at the two moppets and accused, "You didn't tell her?"

"We thought it would come as a surprise.." Tim-Tom offered sheepishly

"You think being murdered in your sleep is a joke?"

"As long as it's not us, yeah," Kevin said.

The old Mum walked around the table to where the two moppets were sitting and slapped them both hard across the face. Kim was surprised to find that the outline of her hand was raised on both moppets. She'd never seen anyone slapped that hard before.

"Now dare you disrespect your mum!" She told them.

"But she's not really our mum, you're our mum," Tim-Tom protested.

"Does she hold your personal service contracts?"

The moppets reluctantly nodded. "Then she's your mum and I expect you to show her the same loyalty that you would show me. Do I make myself clear?" Her gravelly voice had dropped so low it was almost like she was grunting the words to them. They nodded their agreement.

"Good," the original Lady Au Pair walked back around to her carpet bag and reached into it and pulled out a deceptively small, slim book. It was printed on tissue paper and run to nearly a thousand pages. "You'll need this," she said, thrusting the book at Kim. "Read page 127. Now!" She didn't wait to see if Kim obeyed but continued to pull out a stacks of papers which she spread out in front of her. She lined up some pens beside them before putting the empty carpet bag on the floor and sitting down.

"What's all that?" Kim asked, pointing to the piles of papers. "You look like an insurance salesman."

"In a way I am. I'm selling you your life. Read the page. We don't have much time."

" 'Infringement of Guild member's persona' " Kim read out loud. " 'Penalty: Death!' They're going to kill me because I dressed up like a nanny?"

"Yes. I'm very disappointed in my boys for not telling you before this. Of course the Guild would have been lenient if you had been just a common crook using a nanny costume as a disguise. But you had the Moppets with you. That meant a clear intent to be Lady Au Pair, which, even after all this time, is still a registered persona with the Guild of Calamitous Intent, meaning you are guilty of Persona Infringement. The Guild is very strict about that. We are nothing without our Personas."

"I'm already on the run from the Blackhearts. You mean I've got to be on the run from the Guild as well?"

"No one runs from the Guild for very long."

"I suppose you're here to perform this "erasure" personally," Kim said, leveling her gun at the older woman.

"Put that down. If I wanted you dead you'd've been dead by now. No, I'm here to save your life, since that's what it's going to take to save my boys. For some reason they seem to think that your Erasure would leave them alone, but since they're accomplices to your infringement, they'll be included in any Guild action."

"You said we had nothing to fear," Kevin accused his partner.

"The book didn't say anything about us being accomplices.," Tim-Tom whispered back.

"Boys!" the original Lady Au Pair hushed them. Turning back to a pale faced Kim she continued, "by the way I brought in your mail." She took a manila envelope off the top of her pile of papers and tossed it in front of Kim.

"Mail?" Kim echoes. We don't get any mail here. We set up a bill paying front so there was no way anyone could trace us to this location."

"Good plan, smart," the original Lady Au Pair said. "But a plan is only as good as its weakest link."

Kim looked at the envelope. It had Tim-Tom's name on the front with the address of their safe house. The return address was to something called "New Age Enterprises" of Las Vegas. She looked over the top of the envelope to stare at the dwarf. He stared right back at her, looking as innocent as a man could with sweat beading on his forehead.

"What is this?" she asked and started to tear open the envelope. Tim-Tom was out of his seat like a shot, scrambling across the table to grab the envelope out of her hand.

"It's nothing to worry about, mum," he said. "It's just just some kind of slip-up..."

Kim grabbed the envelope back from him and fixed him in her eyes while she finished tearing open the brown envelope. She upended it and dumped the contents on the table. There was a slick, heavy magazine of photograuve stock. A collage of pictures filled the cover, of naked, enormous-breasted women being swarmed over by equally naked dwarfs. The title, tucked in across the top, read, "Little Men, Big Women." She started to flip through the magazine but slapped it shut after seeing one page of hardcore activity.

"You filed a change of address notice for this piece of...smut!" She snarled. She leveled the Glock at the dwarf.

"Put that away," Dr. Girlfriend ordered. "His addiction to smut is what's saved your life."

Kim eyed the other woman speculatively.

"Come again?"

"There's nothing in the Guild that can't be fixed, as long as you have the money, but I had to find you ahead of the Guild's Erasure squad. Knowing Tim-Tom's addiction to this particular magazine..."

"Do you know how hard it is to find a magazine of that particular interest in a small town like this," Tim-Tom broke in. "Or how hard it is to buy such a magazine when one looks like a four year old?"

"Tim-Tom, your mum is speaking. Please don't interrupt." Turning back to Kim she continued, "Knowing his addiction to this magazine I suspected he would put in a change of address notice. Which he did. It's stupid and will be the death of him someday. We've had this conversation before when he was working for me. He never listens but this time it lead me to you ahead of the Guild's operatives."

Kevin grumbled something.

"What was that?" Dr. Girlfriend demanded.

"I was just saying, 'not exactly'. "

Dr. Girlfriend and Kim waited for him to go on.

"Tim-Tom and I had to take out a Guild squad this morning."

"So that's why you were late!" Kim exclaimed.

"A hit squad?"

"Nah, a reccon unit."

"Why didn't they get the recall notice? I had 72 hours to find you guys...:

"Their radio did seem broken."

"What did you do with their bodies?" Kim asked.

"Ravine outside of town."

"I suggest as soon as we conclude our business here, you bug out as soon as possible."

"We were already doing that when you showed up."

"Good, Good." The original Lady Au Pair picked up a pile of paper and held them out for Kim. "Like I said, anything in the Guild can be fixed with enough money, including your little problem. Normally I wouldn't bother to help you but I still feel an attachment with my Muderous Moppets. I'd hate to see anything happen to them. And since my husband saw fit to sell them out from under me it will piss him off to find out that his little plot to have the Guild kill them for him has been thwarted. Since the best way to keep my boys alive is to keep you alive... here's the deal:

"One, you join the Guild. Sign at the "X" and initial all the other pages."

"Hey this thing is dated two months ago?"

"Yes, before your ill-thought out attempt to Arch Hank Venture."

"I don't need Guild approval to kill someone," Kim protested.

"Just sign," Lady Au pair ordered. Picking up a second set of papers she handed them to Kim who was still glowering down at the first set. "Hurry up, you haven't got all day. Now, these papers are a contract between you and me to license the Lady Au Pair persona. It is also back-dated so that when you robbed that bank you were already licensed to appear as Lady Au Pair. Sign at the "X", initial all the other pages.

Kim started flipping through the pages, skimming over the various paragraphs and clauses. "So you're going to get a cut of all my takings as well as your husband?" she demanded.

"My husband was not in a position to sell you my moppets so any contract he made with you was fraudulent."

"Does that mean I'll get back the money I already sent him?"

"I'll neither help nor hinder any effort you make to recover your money, but would suggest that you chalk it up to experience. Getting money out of the Monarch won't be an easy task"

Seeing that Kim was still flipping though the papers and not signing them, Dr. Girlfriend growled, "read them later. It's not like you can afford not to sign them. It's agree to my terms or be ... erased."

Kim grumbled under her breath but picked up a pen and began signing where indicated. As she was flipping through the pages to initial them she noticed that Dr. Girlfriend had picked up two more sets of papers.

"What are those," she asked.

"Consent agreements. Despite the back-dating of those first two documents and the very large bribe required so that when they are entered into the Guild database they will be properly timestamped as being entered two months earlier, the Guild is fully aware that you attempted to Arch without permission and used a Persona without permission. So everything is conditional on you accepting two stipulations from the Guild."

"What kind of conditions?" Kim asked, unhappily.

"First, for Arching Hank Venture without permission you are barred from Arching him for a full twelve months counting from today's date.

"What! What are I supposed to do till them?"

"Work on your second stipulation," Dr. Girlfriend told her. "Which is to Arch a certain man who's scientific research is becoming disruptive."

"Who?"

"I have his dossier here, but first sign those other papers." As Kim signed the pages Dr. Girlfriend took them and ran them through a document scanner. She made of a stack of them near Kim as they came out of the scanner.

"So who am I supposed to Arch?" Kim as she finished signing the papers. "Some old fart who's about to find a cure for cancer? Anyway I thought the guild allowed members to choose who they want to Arch?"

"The Guild, as well as the Office of Secret Intelligence, are concerned about disruptive technologies being unleased on civilization. The Guild isn't fond of the world going up in a ball of flames. It limits one's chances of Arching. So from time and time it becomes necessary to bring down some super-scientist who might be too close to making some major discovery. Or at least throwing it out to the world. You've been assigned Dr. Gravity. He's on the verge of discovering anti-gravity.

Actually anti-gravity has been discovered several times, it's the secret to flying Cocoons, Hovering Tanks and so much more. So long as Guild members use it only for their personal use it's OK, but imagine what would happen if someone were to come along with a real, working flying car? In an instant all trains, buses, trucks, airplanes, boats, etc would be out of business. Who needs any airliner when you can fly to where ever you want in your own flying car? All of these industries would be destroyed, all the industries that make parts for planes, trains, and cars would be out of business. All the companies that make or repairs roads would be shut down. The economy would collpase. We can't have that. So we need someone to get close to Dr, Gravity and screw up his plans.

It's actually a twofer. You need lots of money to cover all the bribes to get into the Guild, he has enormous reserves of money in Swiss Bank Accounts. Drain those and you've set back his plans while gaining enough operating capital for a life of Arching."

Dr. Girlfriend handed the dossier to Kim as the last of the signed papers came out of the scanner. Checking that the images had been saved, she closed up the scanner and put it back in her carpet bag. "This should be a piece of cake for you," she went on. "The Guild has identified his chief weakness as pretty young girls. There should be a snap for you to get close, and wipe him out."

Dr. Girlfriend stood up, picked up up her carpet bag. "I think we've taken long enough here. I've got to get back to a Guild Service Center to enter in these contracts. If a Guild spy team was already this close, you had better skedaddle. Oh, and do read through the manual. Now that you know it exists it's up to you to stay in good graces with the Guild."

The former Lady Au Pair paused at the door. She set the carpet bag down again and started unbuttoning her dress. Pulling it revealed a pink Chanel dress suit under it. She rolled up the dress and stuffed in the bag, then pulled out a matching pink pill hat which she pinned to her hair. Brushing out some wrinkles on her suit, Dr. Girlfriend, now dressed as Dr. Girlfriend reached for the doorknob.

"So that's it?" Kim asked, opening the door open. "No changing of the guard ceremony, or anything?"

Dr. Girlfriend was kneeling to hug Kevin and Tim-Tom. She whispered something to each of them which made them look a little chastised. Standing up she said, "It does seem like something is called for." She reopened her bag and ooulled out her hat with the big floppy daisy and handed it to Kim. "Consider this the passing of the torch."

Kim tossed her own hat aside and placed this one on his head. "Thank you," she said.

"Take good care of my boys."

Kim stood holding the door for a moment. "Look, I've got to ask you a question?"

"If it's about my voice..."

"No, it's why didn't you continue as Lady Au Pair?"

Dr, Girlfriend looked to see where the moppets were. They had gone into their room to finish packing. She took a cigarette out of her coat pocket and lit it. "The truth is - I sucked at it. There wasn't a better team for executing a plan once we got one together. You'll find the boys are very good at that. But it was so hard to come up with a caper. I'm a natural Number Two. Give me a plan and I'll make it work brilliantly, but don't ask me to come up with one. You, I think will be better as a Number One. Just keep the boys busy and they won't give you much trouble. It's when they're idle that... Just keep them busy."

And she was gone. Kim watched her walk down the pavement to the street and climb into a shabby blue Geo Metro, then she closed the door and yelled at the two dwarves to hurry up. She'd read up later how much of her soul she had signed away, at the moment she just wanted to get away while it was still attached to her body.

* * *

Not the usual kaboom I like for an ending but this is more of a transition/set-up for new stories. I began this right after finisihing "A Day in the Life" to answer the question, "what becomes of Kim." And I think I never finished the story before this because I got distracted by idea of what comes next. None of which, alas, are near enough done for me to start posting.


End file.
